


what's wrong?

by orphan_account



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 12:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Erin finds Holtz passed out in the kitchen in the middle of the night.





	what's wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really getting on this whumped!Holtz train? IDK.  
Fair warning for emetophobia in the second half.

Erin jerks awake.

At first, she's not sure what woke her, but then she hears a low moan – _Patty? Abby? Holtzmann? _She kicks off her covers and stumbles out into the kitchen.

Holtzmann is crouched on the floor by the sink, curled into a ball.

"Holtz?" Erin whispers.

"Mmmmmmgggrh," Holtzmann mumbles. She covers her eyes with a hand.

"Holtzmann? What's wrong?"

Holtzmann shakes her head, pale in the reflected streetlights. Her eyes are squeezed shut and Erin can see blotches of sweat seeping through her oversized t-shirt.

"Are you sick?" Her voice rises to a normal tone.

Holtzmann nods once, then presses her hands into her ears, blocking out the echoes of Erin's voice.

Erin, unsure what to do, kneels beside her friend. She gently places her hand on Holtz's forehead. It's not hot; she's clammy and almost cold to the touch.

"Headache," she whispers to Erin.

Erin frowns. "You're shaking," she murmurs. "I'll get some painkillers." She roots through the cupboards above the bench until she finds a bottle of Ibuprofen/Panadol and shakes two out. Holtzmann winces at the sharp clattering.

Erin tries to fill the glass of water as quietly as she can, dribbling the water and easing the taps off. Her stomach clenches with guilt: Holtz is shivering in a heap on the cold floor. She reaches out a hand and wraps it around Erin's ankle. It's sweaty and cold.

"Here you go," Erin says, kneeling down with the pills.

Holtzmann swallows slowly, looking as if she might vomit them straight back out, but then she manages a ghost of a smile. "Thanks," she whispers.

"What's going on?" Erin murmurs. 

Holtzmann just closes her eyes and ignores her. Erin pads over to the lounge brings Holtz's favourite blanket over and tucking it gently around her tense body, then settles in beside her to wait for the painkillers to kick in.

After a few minutes, Holtzmann flutters her eyes open. "Sorry. Migraine."

"That's one hell of a migraine," Erin says, a little louder than she means to. 

Holtzmann cringes.

"Sorry," Erin whispers, feeling guilty again. She quickly reviews the day for signs of the oncoming migraine. _Of course._ Holtzmann hadn't stopped working since yesterday afternoon, when she had a breakthrough on how to lighten the proton packs. "You know, I read somewhere that migraines are worse when you don't eat… or sleep… or drink water."

"Does that seem like me, hot stuff?" Holtzmann jokes quietly, a tiny bit of colour returning to her cheeks. She has the good grace to look guilty for a half-breath before she returns to looking hang-dog.

Heart pounding, Erin reaches over cautiously and presses her thumb into the space between Holtz's eyebrows, applying a light pressure.

"Unfh," she groans.

Erin stops immediately. "Sorry, that just… it helps my headaches."

"No, keep going," Holtz whispers back. She even shifts closer to Erin, wincing as her back scrapes against the kitchen cabinets.

Erin obliges, keeping a gentle pressure on the point. Holtzmann slowly relaxes until she's prone on the floor with her head in Erin's lap. Erin moves a finger to her temple and rubs that too.

Erin's eyes slip shut; she's floating between wakefulness and sleep when Holtzmann whispers, "Thank you."

"S'okay, Holtzy," Erin whispers back, closing her eyes again. "Shh…"

Eventually, Holtzmann's mouth falls open and her forehead smooths out, the crumple of pain gone from her forehead. Erin stays, supporting Holtz, until she too drifts off.

***

Holtzmann wakes up with her body pressed into the tiles in the kitchen. Her joints ache like she uses a walker in her day-to-day life and her stomach is both digesting itself and also ready to hurl at a moment's notice.

_Great_. She's still got the migraine, and she's not in bed. She tries to sit up a little, steeling herself to navigate all the way to her bedroom, and realises her face is on Erin's lap.

Last night begins to form through the haze of pain. She remembers crawling into bed when the headache started, too sick to eat or drink anything. Parching thirst woke her up, and she struggled out to the kitchen for a drink. Then it's hazy for a bit, and then Erin came.

And looked after her. Stroked her temples until she fell asleep.

Holtzmann is suddenly hyper-aware of her face where it's pressed up against Erin's thighs.

"Hey, Holtz," Erin whispers.

Holtz panics.

"I'm sorry," she says, scrambling upright, putting distance between them, wincing as her migraine comes back in full force from the sunlight and the movement. "I'm normally okay. Just… didn't really look after myself yesterday."

Erin's mouth is moving, but Holtzmann can't hear over the high-pitched whine drilling into her ears. She's ashamed at how heavily she leans on the counter and how deeply she has to breathe to keep the world from spinning.

Erin pushes herself up next to the engineer. She gently cups her elbow and puts an arm around her shoulders. "Let's get you back to bed."

It's dizzy and nauseating to move, but Erin tries to support her unobtrusively, and Holtzmann gratefully collapses into her bed when they finally make it. She curls into the fetal position as Erin lays the covers over her and pulls the blinds shut tighter. The room dims a fraction.

At the oddly touching gesture, a few tears sneak out into her hair. She tries to surreptitiously wipe them clean on her pillow, but instead she streaks mascara all over the place. She makes a tiny frowning face as Erin leaves the room.

_Don't go_, she wants to say, but _don't be pathetic, Holtzmann, she's done enough for you._

She floats on the hazy pain for a bit, and then the door creaks open, hurting her ears. She winces. It's Erin, with more painkillers and… a tiny bowl of rice? "You have to eat, Holtz, your body can't just take all those painkillers."

Holtzmann's stomach turns inside out at the sight of the food, but with Erin's doe eyes on her, she chokes down a few mouthfuls before she mutters, "Can't eat anymore."

She closes her eyes, trying not to be sick all over Erin's slippers, and manages to succeed.

_Nice repayment that would be, Jillian Holtzmann._

Erin presses the painkillers into her hand. "It's just Panadol, Ibuprofen… Is there anything else I can get?"

"Prescription stuff. In the drawers. Imitrex," Holtzmann whispers. "Please."

Normally, she wouldn't let anyone see her like this, wouldn't let them help her, and wouldn't in a million years let them look inside her drawers, but Erin's already seen her at her worst, last night, and Holtzmann _really_ does not relish the thought of trying to get all the way to her dresser and back to bed.

Erin opens the top drawer, sees Holtzmann's underwear and slams it shut again.

The noise resonates inside her head like a million little hammers banging on the fault lines of her skull. She concentrates from her head to her toes on not vomiting again.

Erin finally finds the little bottle in the second drawer down and brings them over. Holtzmann takes one, then closes her eyes, willing herself back to sleep so she doesn't have to keep _feeling_ so many things. Not just the throbbing headache, the nausea, the dizziness, but also the way Erin makes her feel.

She's dissolving all Holtzmann's boundaries, and the warm fuzziness inside her chest leads her to believe that she _might_ just be in love with Erin Gilbert. _Holtzmann, keep that mouth zipped, do you hear me?_ This medication always makes her a little bit unbuttoned before she passes out and she doesn't want to declare her love for Erin in a drug-addled state.

Erin, oblivious to Holtzmann's spinning thoughts, gently rubs the nape of her neck. "Can I do anything else?"

She moves her head gingerly from side to side in a shake, expecting Erin to smooth the covers one last time and leave.

Instead, she shuffles into a seated pose next to the bed and returns to pressing between Holtz's eyebrows.

A couple more tears dribble out, and as Holtz's body relaxes, so does her filter. "I love you so much, Er-bear," she murmurs softly. "I wish every day could be like this."

Startled, Erin's hand stills for a heartbeat, and then Holtz is gone under waves of sleep.

***

It's well past midday when Erin finally gathers the courage to climb into the end of Holtzmann's bed. She's spent a lot of time analysing that last comment, and she's concluded that Holtzmann might not even remember in the morning. _I won't say anything unless she does_. She tucks a pair of sweatpants under her head and falls asleep to Holtz's gentle snores almost immediately.

***

"Have you _ever_ seen anything so disgustingly sweet?" Patty demands softly as Abby pulls the door closed on the pair, curled around each other like a treble clef.

"Holtzmann _never_ lets anyone look after her," Abby says pensively. "Especially not when she has a migraine."

"Holtzmann would let Erin dress her in a pinafore if it meant Erin would spend time with her," Patty points out drily.

***

Holtzmann groans softly as she awakens a third time, but the headache's receding. She can look at the glow of sunlight behind the blinds without wanting to solder her eyelids closed.

She rolls over and nearly pushes Erin off the side of the bed.

Erin throws a hand up and shoves her away, mumbling something incomprehensible through her sleep. Holtzmann stifles a laugh, which is cut off by the wave of panic that follows. Everything rushes back, and finally, the recollection of her last words to the physicist last night.

It makes her feel physically ill for a second, and then, realising that it's her migraine rather than her pathetic crush, she staggers to the bathroom to hurl her guts out.

Vomiting is always the last step in the Holtzmann migraine-recovery plan, so her rational brain is semi-relieved. _At least it was less than twenty-four hours this time. _Her irrational brain says, _Now Erin will stop being nice to you._

And then she's retching so hard she can barely breathe. As she's hurling up the contents of her stomach (mainly acid and undigested rice – disgusting, if she does say so herself), she feels a cool hand under her forehead, giving her something to brace against as she gasps for breath between heaves.

_Erin_. She didn't lock the bathroom door.

Hot tears leak out from her eyelids as she struggles for breath.

When she finishes, she leans into Erin's side, too weak to hold herself up properly. Everything's too hazy to even consider being embarrassed right now.

"Oh, honey," Erin murmurs, wiping her face with a warm washcloth. Holtzmann just closes her eyes, trying to avoid Erin's beautifully-symmetrical-but-unbearably-sympathetic face. _Maybe a little embarrassed._

"I'm fine," she rasps, trying to save face. _Maybe a lot embarrassed._

Erin actually has the audacity to laugh. True, Holtzmann could hardly be cutting a more pathetic figure than crumpled on the bathroom floor, too weak to stand, but still. She makes a frowning face at Erin.

"Holtz. I'm not going to leave you here. You can barely sit up, for God's sake."

Holtzmann makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

They sit together, quiet for a while, until Erin feeds her a few plain crackers and some water to help her regain her strength.

Everything slowly starts to feel better, and Holtzmann starts to feel pretty disgusting. In the past twenty-four hours, she's sweated her way through her pajamas at least twice, and now she has that distinct vomit-y smell hanging around her head. Not to mention she hasn't washed her hair in three days.

Erin looks like something is fighting to make its way out of her mouth, and Holtzmann manages an approximation of her usual grin. "Just spit it out, Gilbert."

"I-want-you-to-promise-me-you'll-look-after-yourself," Erin says in a jumble of sounds. It takes Holtz's brain a few seconds to make all the connections and work out what she's said. In the intervening moments, Erin flushes a bright red. "It's horrible watching you go through that, Jill."

Holtzmann winces. _Jill_ is big guilt-trip guns. She knows she's not really the best at taking care of herself, but she doesn't want to burden Erin like that. No matter how nice it was to snuggle up with her.

"I'm sorry," she says, looking down at her hands twisted in her t-shirt. "It wasn't really a cakewalk for me, either."

Erin laughs a little. "I suppose not. Although, I seem to remember you said…"

Holtzmann covers her ears, groaning for real. "Don't remind me."

"_I wish every day could be like this_, I think it was," Erin smirks.

Holtz doesn't think she's ever blushed this hard in her life. Her buttcheeks are glowing red with embarrassment. She fumbles through her brain for some way to play it off as a joke.

When she looks at Erin again, the smirk is gone. "Holtz…" she says, leaning forward.

Holtzmann panics entirely. _Erin Gilbert_, the most beautiful woman alive, is about to kiss her. She smells like sweat and vomit and looks like a homeless person.

Erin pauses as she gets closer to Holtzmann's mouth and wrinkles her nose. "No offence, but you kind of smell like…"

Holtzmann grimaces. "Don't finish that sentence, please. I think I'll take a _very_ long shower with a _lot_ of soap now. To be continued?"

Erin smiles and presses a kiss to her fingers and then to Holtz's temple in lieu of getting any closer. Holtzmann grins back, feeling suddenly much better.

Erin helps her up and she unsteadily makes her way into the shower. Getting vertical makes her a bit dizzy, which she tries to hide without success. Erin leaves the door ajar, "in case you pass out," she says, eyeing her suspiciously.

Holtz leaves the shower lukewarm so she doesn't send her thermostat into a tailspin, but it's good to feel clean again. She stays in for longer than strictly necessary, letting her stomach and her emotions settle down before she faces Erin.

When she steps out of the shower, Erin has put a clean towel and change of clothes out for her.

She smiles to herself as she dresses. When she hears herself humming _The Wedding March_, she mentally slaps herself. _Stop getting ahead of yourself, Holtzmann._

She brushes her teeth, thinking that it would probably be pretty funny to test her hypothesis that Erin is hovering outside the bathroom door, waiting for her to pass out.

"Erin?"

"Holtz?" Erin whips her head around the door with inhuman speed. "Are you okay?"

Holtz giggles, and Erin blushes. "Sorry," she says sheepishly. "I've just been worried about you."

"I'm fine," Holtzmann says gently. "Thank you, Erin. Thank you so much."

Erin looks down, suddenly shy. "I really care about you."

"I'm going to kiss you now. Is that okay?" Holtz steps forward as Erin steps away, placing a hand in front of Holtz's mouth.

She freezes at the rejection, heart pounding.

"Just one question… have you brushed your teeth?"

The dizziness lifts, and Holtz laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, I have."

Erin leans forward and kisses her.

She's been waiting a lifetime for this moment.


End file.
